


Photographic Evidence

by TeruMikamiIsAFanatic



Series: The Bad Friends-With-Benefits Trio [4]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Blackmail, Blow Jobs, Fingering, Floor Sex, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Gilbert is a little shit, It all ends out well though, M/M, Multi, Piano Sex, Roderich is a little shit too, Roderich is perfectly amicable to alternate forms of payment, Teasing, There’s fluff if you squint, Wall Sex, actually they all are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 02:55:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15720531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeruMikamiIsAFanatic/pseuds/TeruMikamiIsAFanatic
Summary: Roderich has photos of a certain night. The BFT are called in to discuss.





	Photographic Evidence

Roderich barely looked at the three sitting in front of him, all in varying states of confusion.

‘Now that you’re all here, we may begin.’

‘You said this was a private meeting,’ Antonio said. Francis and Gilbert nodded. Roderich ran his fingers over the piano keys. 

‘It is. Just the four of us.’

‘Eh. Now can we go, or are you going to hold us here forever?’ Gilbert asked. Roderich fixed him with his violet gaze. 

‘I have a proposal for the three of you. By any chance do you remember an evening a short while ago? A particularly good evening?’

‘We have had many good evenings,’ Francis said mischievously. ‘Care to remind us?’

Roderich smiled and handed a neat stack of glossy photos to Gilbert. The other two leaned closer to look. ‘Do these pictures ring any bells?’ 

 

It had been sheer coincidence he’d seen them rutting, spearing Gilbert from both ends that night, but this was no such stroke of fate. 

Antonio’s eyes fluttered. The pictures showed every detail of how Gilbert’s throat had taken him, of how he lay there as Antonio fucked his mouth. Francis made a low sound at the back of his throat, seeing the way Gilbert had clenched down, Gilbert’s needy expression, how utterly  _ whorish _ he looked. 

 

Gilbert stared down at the images in his hands, taking in how Antonio’s length stretched his mouth, how Francis held him at a punishing angle, and his cock twitched in his trousers shamefully. He looked up. Roderich stared at him calmly, but his hands trembled in his lap. 

‘You were watching?’ Antonio asked. His voice was too breathy. 

‘I saw you, yes.’ Roderich adjusted his glasses. The room felt too hot. ‘If you don’t want them released, you’ll have to do something for me.’

‘What?’ Francis asked. His hands twitched back towards the photos. Roderich ignored him. 

‘Gilbert?’

 

Gilbert was stock-still, and his mind was spinning and he was too hot and his pants were too tight. The priss had  _ seen _ him and the thought should have made him want to pick up his sword and swing it at that brunette head, but all he felt was a low moan in his throat at how Roderich must have loved him like that. Roderich trembled, and Gilbert saw the bulge in his pants. The realization struck him like lightning. 

‘You  _ liked _ it,’ he breathed, eyes bright. ‘You loved seeing me taken like that. I bet you got off to it, didn’t you.’

Roderich fumbled for an answer. Gilbert was too close, teeth bared in a sharp smile. ‘I…’

‘He did,’ Francis purred, and Roderich whirled. When had he gotten beside him? ‘Look, Roderich. You’re hard just from the thought of it, of us.’ His hand hovered, warmth not quite touching where he needed, and then Antonio was behind him and Gilbert’s hand twisted in his hair and pulled him in for a deep kiss. 

 

‘We can give you what you saw,’ the Prussian offered with a smirk. Roderich’s mind was whirring with ideas of them taking him, where and how, fast and hot, table, floor, bed. Inside him. The ideas of what they could do, how they could take him and their hands on him, his mind was foggy with pleasure. The three exchanged glances, promising things he couldn’t even imagine. 

‘We’d do it well,’ Gilbert said. 

 

They watched him, eyes stripping him down even as he sat. 

‘Make it good and I won’t release the pictures,’ he promised. They looked at each other again, weighing, agreeing. 

‘Deal,’ Antonio said with a laugh. 

‘I didn’t think you were this kinky, priss,’ Gilbert mentioned. Roderich glared at him. 

‘Come here,’ Francis interrupted, lube in hand as he sat on the edge of the piano bench. When Roderich sat awkwardly beside him, he pointed with the hand not lazily stroking himself. ‘On my lap, Roderich.’ He shivered at his name in that accent, at what it could sound like when Francis was sheathed inside him, and Francis must have seen. ‘Roderich,’ he purred again, and Roderich obeyed, watching as Francis slid his trousers down to his knees, unbuttoned his coat. The heat of the Frenchman’s cock pressed against the curve of his ass. 

‘Do you want to take us?’ Antonio asked. Gilbert pulled at the Spaniard’s jacket, and he relinquished it without breaking their gaze. 

 

It had been a while since he was filled properly. God, the feeling of them inside, rutting and pounding and taking, hot against him; he wanted it. 

‘I would.’

‘We’ll do it well, then,’ Antonio joked, accepting the lube Francis handed over. 

‘You better.’ He set down the remaining envelopes. ‘Make it worth it.’

‘Of course.’ Gilbert grinned at him and pulled off his clothes, too, but when Roderich moved to do the same to his unbuttoned coat, Francis’ hands stopped him. 

‘Leave the clothes on.’

‘We want to see you a bit messy.’ Gilbert gave him that wolf’s grin again. ‘You don’t mind, do you? You wanna be messy and taken for the night?’

He twitched, rocked back against Francis’ length. The Frenchman’s breath was warm against his neck. 

‘He  _ likes _ that,’ Francis mused. 

‘He wants it. Don’t you, Roderich?’

The words filled his mind. ‘Yes, yes.’

Gilbert nodded slowly. ‘Well, then, Roderich. Who’s going first?’

 

‘Francis,’ Roderich said instantly. The insistent press of the Frenchman’s length against him was driving him insane. Francis chuckled and adjusted him so his head twitched against Roderich’s hole. His fingers prodded, slick and warm, and Roderich whined. 

‘Distract him,’ Francis said offhandedly. Antonio knelt in front of him, eyes sparkling. 

‘Remember this, Roddy?’ He chuckled. ‘You were always good at it.’ 

 

He ducked his head, brown curls catching late sunlight and brushing against Roderich’s inner thighs. Roderich barely had time to think or remember or anticipate the heat of Antonio’s mouth around him before it was there and he was panting, trying not to to roll his hips forward but it was hard, so hard and god, he’d gotten better since their marriage, took him deeper and swallowing, hot and wet and teasing. 

‘Hey, look at me!’ Gilbert pulled his head up, and he cracked his eyes open. The Prussian surveyed him with a smirk. ‘Kiss me.’

Roderich complied. Gilbert was rough, the feeling of their mouths and fingers was so good. 

 

‘I think he’s ready.’

Antonio pulled off and Roderich groaned with disappointment, still foggy. 

‘Hmm.’ Gilbert’s fingers slipped inside him, slowly working until his hips twisted forward. ‘Yeah, he’s ready.’

‘Against the wall, cher?’

He nodded, and suddenly he was being lifted by three sets of hands, Gilbert’s mouth was hot against his and then it all pulled away. The wall was cold underneath his palms, and he was braced there, not being able to see. 

 

‘Don’t look,’ Francis teased. He could hear his feet on the carpet, feel his hands ghosting over his clothed back, pushing down his pants. He felt exposed with the fabric pooling around his thighs. He could only hear their murmured voices, the crinkle of foil, feel the touches of their fingers along his sides. 

 

‘Roderich,’ Francis said. ‘Look at me, now.’ He lifted his head and Francis’ mouth melded to his, tasting of wine and something rich as chocolate. He pressed inside, rocking carelessly, maddeningly good and building and slow. 

‘Roderich, Roderich,’ he praised, but Roderich was lost in the feeling, in the heat. It had been too long, far too long since he was filled and his body bucked back on it, moans caught in his throat, shuddering, teary. 

‘You look so good,’ Antonio breathed against his chest, collarbone, fingers curling around his length. ‘Francis, let me kiss him.’

Francis pulled away and Antonio moved closer, spice and heat and sun. He turned towards it blindly, feeling a release coming, building, with every roll of Francis’ hips, relentless and languid and threatening to overwhelm him, surely, surely, god, more, more more  _ more _ . He whined for it, and Francis chuckled, pressing against that spot-he begged, and thrusted back, undone. 

‘Hey, hey.’ Gilbert’s voice barely filtered through the heat haze. Antonio retreated and then Gilbert was on him, hot and sharp and pale, it was the growl of his name in that rough voice that made Roderich’s eyes snap open, that pushed him over the edge with a choked scream. 

 

‘Good,’ Francis breathed once he came back, letting him slide bonelessly to the ground to recover. ‘Can you take them next?’ He waved at Antonio and Gilbert. 

‘Yes,’ Roderich murmured. ‘Antonio.’

‘Saving me for last, hmm?’ Gilbert grinned down at him. ‘I don’t mind that.’

Roderich tried to muster a glare, but his head was fuzzy and warm and his body still thrummed with excitement. He turned to Antonio instead. 

‘Cher, you look exhausted,’ Francis purred. ‘Would you like Antonio here?’

‘I could do that,’ Antonio mused, kneeling beside him. Roderich met his eyes, but it was the idea of riding him, feeling speared like that that pushed him to nod. 

 

Antonio grinned as Roderich climbed on top of him. 

‘Better check…’ he teased, fingers swirling around his hole, slipping inside. Roderich shivered and lowered himself onto Antonio’s length, whimpering as it filled him. Antonio sucked in a quiet breath. 

‘Mon dieu, that’s a sight,’ Francis whispered. ‘Look at him.’

‘At the way he stretches, takes it...god, Roderich.’ Gilbert held him from behind, a hand reaching to stroke. ‘Move.’

He did, biting off a moan, waiting searching  _ there, there there there _ , hot and hard and sending sparkles of heat through his body. His back arched into the touch, into the heat, the world blurring as he bounced on Antonio’s cock, head thrown back in blind pleasure. 

 

‘Can’t last,’ Antonio gasped. He tasted Francis again, blindly turned to it. Antonio was hard and sculpted beneath him and he hurt, ached from overstimulation but it was so good, so good. It was all the heat pooling in his stomach and their touches, needy and demanding. 

‘Want you,’ Gilbert hissed, clever fingers around his hips. Antonio’s hand replaced his grip. 

‘Roderich.’

Through the haze he nodded, focused on his green eyes. ‘Antonio-yes, yes…’

‘Always,’ he murmured, and his movement slowed until every thrust made him whine, deliberate and slow. ‘You were always…’

 

Then he bucked  _ up _ and Roderich slammed down and they howled in unison,  _ there _ and everywhere and Antonio’s voice, ‘ _ Always good _ ,’ as the world swirled into brown curls and green eyes and nothing else. 

 

‘Good,’ Antonio panted, slipping out. Roderich grabbed him, twining a hand in his curls and tasted his spice and sun again. 

‘Toni’s made an impression on you, then?’ Gilbert asked from behind him. ‘I’ll have to do better.’

‘Unlikely you could,’ Roderich said, frowning at him. Gilbert’s eyes flashed. 

‘Is that a challenge?’

Roderich smiled back. ‘Yes.’

 

It was a blurry world lost in the hands shoving him towards the piano, bending him over, hot kisses and Gilbert, Gilbert all around him, touching and slicking and so  _ close _ . And then it was just him and Gilbert, and the exhilaration. 

‘We promised we’d do you well,’ Gilbert breathed. His fingers traced. ‘And we did. Look at you.’ His fingers disappeared into him wet and easy, stroking around that spot before they touched, wonderful pleasure and his back arched with a wail. ‘Look at how loose you are.’ He pressed hard now, not moving, the waves threatened to overwhelm him and Roderich’s hands scrabbled helplessly for any hold on the surface of the piano, whining desperately, bucking forward, back, shaking with desperation. 

‘Gilbert, Gilbert, please, god,’ he begged. Gilbert’s hands held his wrists to the piano and he pressed in. 

 

‘I’m going to go slow,’ he whispered. He pulled out at an agonizing speed and slid back in, over and and over and over until Roderich was writhing, screaming, wanting it harder and deeper and faster and just anything, god, anything more than this torture. 

‘Beg for it,’ Gilbert hissed. 

‘Please, I need it, please, Gilbert,’ he babbled, and finally finally finally Gilbert rammed into him hard and he was sobbing with relief, helpless to do anything but slur praises as he felt his finish coming again. 

‘God, so good,’ Gilbert bit out, reaching down to stroke Roderich’s length. ‘You’re so hot and tight and good, good, Roderich.’

 

Gilbert filled him entirely, deep and slick and hot, speared and helpless. It was so different than Francis’ slow rocking or Antonio’s near intimacy, it was burning, sheathed deep and taking, taking, taking, wiping everything else from the world until it consumed him over and over. Gilbert’s hand was hot on him, bringing him closer and closer until he hit  _ again, again _ and Roderich came with a silent, arched scream, gone, gone, gone. 

 

‘Good, good.’ The praise was all and nothing, three voices as one. 

‘Good,’ he repeated, and accepted the hands that led him to the soft carpet. 

 

Roderich woke up to three figures illuminated against the window. 

‘Ah, he’s awake,’ Francis said cheerfully, a steady hand on his back to prop him up. ‘Have some water.’

Roderich accepted it, slipping slowly. Antonio sat nearby, trousers rumpled and undone. ‘Feeling good, Roderich?’

‘Very.’ It was a deep-set sort of satisfied. 

‘Good enough that you won’t release the pictures?’ Gilbert asked, flopping down across from him. 

‘Yes.’

‘Swear it,’ the Prussian pressed. 

‘I swear I won’t release the pictures,’ Roderich recited. The three glanced at each other. 

‘Good enough for me,’ Antonio said, standing up. ‘While you were out, I put some energy bars on the counter.’

‘How long was I asleep?’ Roderich asked. 

‘Seven and a half minutes. Toni works fast.’ Francis gave the Spaniard a look. ‘All in all, this was a very good opportunity.’

‘I would do you again,’ Gilbert said, grinning. ‘Later, priss.’

 

They walked out. Roderich stood and picked up the pictures still lying on his piano bench. Just because he wouldn’t release them didn’t mean he couldn’t keep them for the night. 

**Author's Note:**

> Well, then. Never say there’s isn’t a length to which I won’t stoop. 
> 
> Kudos to all my fantastic commenters who gave me ideas!


End file.
